So after Kīrimi left the chief’s office with his head held high and his gait even higher , he put his earbuds on and listened to, ‘lift up your head and hold it up high, we know that we win the prize.’ His denim pants had dropped an inch lower since his victory and gait were beginning to get to his head. Suddenly in the blink of an eye, rumbling fever began in the pit of his stomach. He removed the earphones and listened attentively and alas, this time he heard it clearer and wueeh, he had experienced it enough timed to know what was coming. He opened himself (kujifungulia) and ran at the speed of ‘mūrife don’t run’ like what we used to call, ‘rīa kamūtī’ yaani of stick or the speed of lightning in a hurry. He advanced towards his house but before he could reach the homestead the felt the rectum give in to what little determination that was left. His adrenal glands came in handy and he jumped over his neighbor’s euphorbia fence like an eland on heat, lowered his pants and gave the garden the much needed manure to the relief of his hot belly. Only when he rose up to look for ‘maigoya leaves’ did he see his neighbor grin from ear to ear. That’s when he realised that he had been, ‘nīndaumbīkīirwo kīihu.’ He ran towards his house faster than he had the first time since he now understood that this was gonna last a lil bit longer and he wanted to be home when the next bout came. He finally understood that, ‘mūgathī wa kuona ūteaga wa mwene.’
#StillTheChronicler.
The rumble.
